


Again, Please

by Feech



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shapeshifted sex, Stiles is of age, fanfic of a fanfic, unnegotiated lycanthropy, wolf form sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feech/pseuds/Feech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning of the evening, Stiles doesn't know that Derek is a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again, Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tease Me, Please Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732652) by [Emela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela). 



> This story is meant to take place immediately after Emela's ["Tease Me, Please Me"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3732652).
> 
> Betaread by [Channing](https://scrivnarium.wordpress.com/)  
> and [Emela](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela)

Derek finds Laura to make sure she's still having fun, and to tell her that he's taking a stranger home. He snags Stiles's shirt collar and tugs him to illustrate the concept of stranger.

Laura gives Stiles a once-over and gets her indulgent, amused big-sister expression, the one which means she figures Derek was rendered helpless by Stiles's looks. It's likely that Laura could choose Stiles out of a line-up for Derek. She probably didn't even notice the way he _dances_.

Derek forgets to introduce Stiles by name, so Stiles handles that part, and the handshake and the big, friendly grin. Laura beams at Stiles. Then she gives Derek a glinting look. He glares briefly, to communicate that she'd better not say aloud what she's thinking. She drops her eyelashes and smiles.

Derek contributes: "It's Stiles's birthday, too, Laura."

"Birthday twins!" Stiles and Laura shout simultaneously, and high-five each other. Derek does his best to pretend he doesn't know either of them, while still keeping his fingers hooked in Stiles's shirt collar.

When they're outside where it's thankfully quiet, Stiles phones a friend to tell him where he'll be. The friend is inside the club. "It's way easier to call him than find him," explains Stiles. When he's done, he intertwines his long fingers with Derek's and says, "You can buy me dinner. I need to eat."

"Me, too," realizes Derek. "Okay, I'll take you to dinner."

"But I can't go like this. I need to change."

"I guess I need a shower." Derek can't wait to re-home his nose after the Jungle.

"So we'll meet at the restaurant."

Derek stiffens. His grip on Stiles's hand tightens, he hopes not uncomfortably. Of course it makes the most sense to meet later. But he doesn't want to let Stiles out of his sight. He hasn't made enough of an impression on the boy yet. What if he gets away? What if he changes his mind as soon as they part? Derek tries to tell himself that Stiles can walk away and they will both be fine; that he will be disappointed, but fine. He calms his breathing. But he can't say anything yet, and still has Stiles firmly gripped. There is, of course, no non-creepy way to convey his thoughts.

Then Stiles asks for Derek's phone. Derek hands it to him, dumbly. Stiles unwinds his hand from Derek's, using a lot of undulation of his arm. Soon Stiles gives the phone back, saying, "Now I'm in your phone and you're in mine, in case we lose track of each other."

Derek sighs, hopefully not too obviously with relief.

When Derek pulls into the parking lot of the selected restaurant (Stiles is the birthday boy, he gets to pick), Stiles is there, leaning back against the hood of his Jeep. He squints and grins when he sees Derek, and waves enthusiastically. Derek nods briefly at him and parks.

They curl their fingers together again. Stiles has showered. He looks clean and soft and Derek wants to lick him all over. He settles for kissing him and saying, low, in his ear, "I want to take you apart again after dinner. I need to get you dirty."

Stiles responds with an unrestrained whole-body shiver. This pleases Derek.

The menu is a problem. Derek wants two entrees. He would have liked to think that, if he did go on a lot of dinner dates, he could disguise his werewolf appetite by eating less than he normally would. But he's having difficulty accepting that he can't have a full pasta plate as well as a steak. His hunger is a very bad and unwilling liar. These sorts of plans always work out better in his head.

However, Stiles orders first, and if Derek couldn't tell by other means, he would just assume that Stiles was a werewolf himself. So he goes ahead and gets two entrees.

Derek has the cavatappi with sausage. Both men also get fortified with steaks and, in Stiles's case, almost an entire small shrimp-and-artichoke pizza (Derek has one slice, to taste it). Derek has a beer, having not even finished his drink at the Jungle. Stiles has a Coke. Several, actually, citing a need for hydration. Watching him eat, Derek feels that his earlier anxiety about Stiles not wanting to meet him here was completely unfounded. It seems impossible that this kid would pass up a chance to have Derek take him out for dinner. That is, if he doesn't feel _obligated_ to do anything afterward because of it. 

Stiles confides to the waiter that it's his birthday, which Derek would not do on pain of death, because then of course the waitstaff all gather around the table. Stiles is presented with a free piece of cake with a candle in it, and there is obligatory singing and clapping. Derek sinks down in his seat. Stiles beams, evidently pleased not only by the cake, but by any form of attention. 

It's not all bad, though, because after the waiters depart, Stiles feeds Derek a bite of cake with his fingertips.

Derek drops a good tip on the table, and Stiles holds hands with him again as they leave.

The Jeep noisily follows Derek's car home to the loft.

"Anyone else here?" Stiles asks as they come into the echoing, always-empty place.

"I live alone right now."

"Then you could take me now." Stiles shimmies out of his pants, an action at which Derek stares speechlessly. "You could do me over the table."

Derek's mouth waters. But he frowns. "I don't want it that way."

"But Derek, you _promised_."

Derek thinks that whining should not turn him on, but, yeah. They were both already hard when they entered the loft and now it's getting aggravating how turned on he is. He's going from needy to irritable. "I promised to fuck you. I didn't say anything about the kitchen table." He doesn't want to start right out with a near-repeat of the bathroom at the club; though he's been cleaned up and they're fed, he wants Stiles in his bed before they get around to using the table. But it's hard to say this out loud, because then he might admit, with it all jumbled up in his head, that what he wants most is for his bed to smell like Stiles.

Derek remembers that his bed is unmade and he's in no way prepared for company, let alone company he wishes to impress. Which may be an odd worry after club bathroom sex, but--anyway, it's too late. Stiles perks up, walks through the kitchen area, naked from the waist down, carrying his pants and chattering. "Bed is good. Beds are great for sex, don't you think? Admittedly I've never done the kitchen table thing, but really beds are awesome because especially for bony people like me the softness is usually a benefit. I say 'usually' because I don't want you to think you can't get a little rough. Thanks for the invitation. Point me to the bed."

Derek can't tell whether Stiles's words are due to nervousness or no mouth filter or both. Stiles doesn't smell nervous. In fact, when Derek gets a chance to stick his nose in the crook of Stiles's neck and under his ear, the young man smells sweet, like a dessert with alcohol in it. There's sweat and the fragrances of shampoo and bodywash from his recent shower, but no sour nervous scent.

Stiles throws himself down in the mussed-up bedding and wriggles around with his cheek and nose smushed into a pillow, ass slightly elevated, luxuriating.

"I'm sorry it's not made," Derek mutters, staring at the ass in motion.

"That's okay." Stiles's speech is muffled by his mouth being smashed into the bedding. "We're going to mess it up anyway!" Suddenly he rolls over and grins at Derek, who is left a little stunned. Derek is in a limbo between shell-shocked and aroused, not sure what to do with himself. He was so horny at the club that his primary goal was getting the kid naked. But now he _is_ naked, has been ravaged once already, is unquestionably available to be ravaged again soon, and Derek's mind breaks. There's something else going on here, damned if he knows what. A sort of tickle from the wolf in the back of his mind says, _Mine_.

He knows to some extent what to do with that, anyway. Have sex with Stiles, feed him, fight to keep others away from him forever if possible, repeat. Derek reminds himself with a calming breath that isolating your new conquest is not desirable human behavior. His hands shake but he somehow gets out of his jeans and Stiles gapes at him flatteringly. "Holy cow, you are a _beast_. Wow. I thought, you know, I mean, I could feel you on my ass at the club. It was, I mean, I thought you were big, but I was kind of distracted." He winks. 

Stiles gets back onto his elbows and knees, gripping a pillow in his hands and grinning delightedly. He tilts his ass in the air and gives Derek a coy look over his shoulder. "Think you can fit?"

Derek plays along. "Think you can take it for me, little pup? You ever had anything this big inside you?"

"Nope," smirks Stiles, dancing his ass back and forth. "You gonna _make_ me take it?"

"Oh, yes."

Stiles gives a squeaky whimper that makes Derek's dick strain all the more. Derek recovers a sliver of his bravado from their club encounter. "You make such pretty little noises. You were a good little pup at the club. Can you be good again for me? I do need to keep my promise to fuck you." Derek climbs up on the bed and slides over Stiles's back, supporting himself on his knees and elbows. "You want this cock, don't you, little bitch?"

"If I'm your little bitch, are you the big mean dog?"

"I'm a wolf," Derek snarls in his ear.

He shouldn't have given Stiles the wolf prompt. The motormouth is off and running, and Derek is sunk.

"A _wolf_. The big, bad wolf and I must be... um... a little squeaky pig. My voice cracks anyway. Is it very noticeable?"

"I've noticed it," says Derek hoarsely.

"I refuse to be a stupid enough little pig to build a house out of straw. Who does that? Especially pigs. Don't pigs sleep in beds of straw? Who builds a house out of bedding? I won't be that piggy, but I'm willing to consider being the wooden house piggy. Theoretically, he may not have been aware of the extreme power of the wolf's breath."

Derek scrambles back onto his heels, glancing at the bedside table and thinking of lube. But he does take a moment to point out that straw can be a legitimate thing to build houses out of.

"Says the big, bad wolf. You would want me to think that! But, now that you mention it, I think I have heard of houses built out of straw. _But_. I don't know whether these houses are built with heavy-breathing wolves in mind."

Derek has to admit that he does not know this, either. He's not thinking clearly, since Stiles has called him 'big, bad wolf' as if he _knows._ He reminds himself, _Stiles is just playing. He's only playing to what you just said, yourself. He has no idea_.

"I'll stick with the wooden house. That way, there will be a chase scene, but only one, from wooden house to brick house. And you won't catch me." Stiles waggles his eyebrows.

Derek tackles him. "Oh, I'll catch you. I'll change the ending of the story."

"Good," says Stiles, grinning up at him. "It'd be really boring if you got locked outside."

Stiles's grin gives Derek a tickling feeling in his stomach. But he comes back to himself long enough to point at the drawer and suggest, "Lube."

"Good idea," says Stiles, diving for the bedside table and rummaging in the drawer as if he owns the place. "I need it for your enormous hard cock. And here's a condom. Roll over sideways." Derek accommodates him.

Stiles goes on in a conversational tone, patting Derek's chest admiringly: "So I'm a pig and you could eat me right up but instead you're going to _have_ me. You're so hungry for this _ass_." He sits back on his heels and helps Derek apply the condom. Actually, he doesn't so much help him as applies it entirely, while Derek makes tight fists and tries to control himself. He soon finds that one of his fists contains the open bottle of lube. Stiles placed it there, apparently for convenient dispensing. There's no break in Stiles's speech. "And hello you are huge I am just now realizing exactly how big we are talking here. I mean from a distance such as across the room or at the end of the bed you are obviously very large and very fine, Derek. But seriously I'm going to be feeling things I seriously, wow, this is going to be new--"

Derek should be the one to growl into Stiles's ear that he's going to feel things entirely new to him. Instead he's torn between nipping Stiles's neck hard enough to leave marks and forcing himself to stay off of Stiles long enough to apply lubricant.

Stiles lies on his side and backs up to Derek. "Find out how tight I am, big bad wolf. Find out if you can fit. Make it fit. _I need it so bad_."

"Just--" Derek says hoarsely, "--be good." He can't work up anything effective to say. Stiles doesn't leave a lot of gaps between his words.

"Do you want me to slick myself up, or will you do it for me? I'll be good for you, please please, you can do anything you want to me, you can bite me while you fuck me..." Stiles's voice is moderately deep, with a tendency to occasionally squeak or crack, as he himself pointed out. Derek, listening to this young man beg, is flying apart.

"I need it in the _ass_ , you promised, let's do it, please." Stiles holds one cheek aside with his own fingers, looks over his shoulder at Derek, from the bottle of lube to Derek's face and back again. Derek, for his part, is trying to remember how this all even works. Stiles then lies full-length on his belly, no longer looking at Derek, with a distant expression while he seems to speak as much to the pillow as to Derek. He begins describing exactly what it is Derek ought to be doing. "You can lube up your fingers and slick me up now, I'll wait. I want to feel your fingers. Okay? I'm not really gonna roleplay a piggy for you, though. I am not going to _try_ to make my voice crack on purpose, it does that all on its own. And I don't think trying to squeal would work out very well, my voice would probably just go deep right then and anyway it would be embarrassing. Put your fingers in me... Derek?"

Derek sits up silently on his knees behind Stiles, one hand on his cock. Stiles twists to look behind himself, craning to see Derek's face. "Tell me what you want to do to me, big gu--aauuUGH!"

Stiles scrambles up to the headboard and, finding himself trapped against it, slides off the bed and rolls under it.

It takes Derek a heartbeat to realize what has happened. He has to feel his canine tooth dent his own lip to fully figure it out.

"Holy shit your fucking goddamn eyes. Christ and Cheezits what the actual loving fuck. Your teeth. Derek. Where's my phone. Holy loving fuck."

Derek listens to Stiles squirming on the floor, struggling to free his phone from the pocket of the pants he discarded next to the bed earlier. Stiles is whispering now, faint sounds of _holy crap_ and _what do I do_.

Derek climbs out of bed and sits naked on the floor well away from Stiles, dejected. For some reason all he can think about, besides what sort of trauma he is exposing his date to, is how much Laura would laugh if she knew what just happened. He folds his arms on his knees and buries his head in them. Why does his only confidante have to be his older sister?

Stiles seems to feel safer under the bed than next to it. He stays underneath it even though he has to reach awkwardly to retrieve his clothes and free his phone. Then he fumbles with the phone for awhile, swearing under his breath. Then he calls his friend Scott. Scott is still at the club and has trouble hearing Stiles. Stiles, when he can catch a breath, explains that he's pretty sure his date is some kind of beast, but he doesn't know what kind.

"Lucky you," says Scott, when Stiles is able to get this message across.

"I think I might need some help to escape," Stiles wheezes.

"Stiles--did you say you need help?"

"You don't need help," Derek says, in despair. He knows how dumb it sounds for him to make this claim, but things are going to get terribly messy if he doesn't say something and frankly, it scares him. He makes sure he's not blocking the way out. It's a loft; there aren't many walls. Stiles could make one turn around a partition and see the exit to the stairs.

"Hang on, Scott." 

But Scott doesn't want to hang on. "What _exactly_ did he do, Stiles?"

"Oh. Um, you know, he kind of transformed a little bit into a monster. Literally."

"I can't remember whether you know what 'literally' means."

"I know what 'literally' means! His eyes, and his teeth, and some others parts of his face _literally_ transformed."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing yet. Hang on."

"Stiles!"

"I'm staying on the phone, bro. Just give me a second. Derek, what did you say?"

Derek is too startled at being addressed in a normal tone of voice to answer immediately.

"Derek?"

"I said you don't need help."

Scott says, "I'm calling your dad."

Derek pleads with Stiles, "No, don't let him." He knows who Stiles's dad is. He hears himself a moment too late. _Don't let him_ sounds bad. Like, _Don't call for help_. But what can he do? Stiles isn't in danger. If anyone is, it's Derek.

"Sorry, dude, he hung up. But we have time to discuss this. My dad isn't going to bash your door in. He'll call me first."

And he does, almost immediately. "Stiles?"

"Yeah, um."

"Why did Scott call me saying you called _him_ saying you're in danger from a _guy who picked you up at the Jungle_?"

"He most likely said that because I told him _almost_ that. Almost in those words."

"Well? Do I come over there, send deputies or call an ambulance, or what, Stiles?"

"Just wait."

"He doesn't need to send anybody," mumbles Derek. "You're safe."

"He says I'm safe."

Derek can hear the sheriff's sigh. "And do you feel safe, Stiles?"

"I guess so."

"You _guess_ so?"

"Dad, it's Derek Hale. You've heard of Derek, or at least the Hales, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, it's Derek."

"But why were you so scared?"

Derek finds his voice again. "Please, please don't tell him I'm dangerous. I swear I'm not. I don't care if you tell him I'm a werewolf, but please, please don't let him think I'd ever hurt anybody. I wouldn't. I promise. Please."

"Okay, Derek, okay, it's fine. Dad, I got--I got confused and startled. I just--Derek--um. He scared me."

"I'm coming over there," says Stiles's dad. Derek considers packing his favorite T-shirts and a pair of jeans and getting away before he arrives.

"Dad, it's okay. He didn't do it on purpose."

"Even so," says the sheriff in a tight voice.

" _Dad._ Seriously, I don't think he meant it. Let me--just. Okay. Tell you what. Call me back later."

"All right," says the sheriff, and hangs up, and Derek believes in miracles.

"My dad would never hurt you, Derek," Stiles says from under the bed.

"Oh, I think he would," says Derek.

"He has no reason to hurt you. There's not a mark on me. So... what happens now?"

Derek sees shining brown eyes peeking at him from under his side of the bed. "Dude." Stiles's voice is raspy and soft. He repeats, "What happens now?"

"Nothing."

"Aw. Nothing?"

Derek frowns at him in surprise. "Well I don't--I thought--I mean you're safe. Nothing happens past the wolfing out. Nothing bad happens. Okay? You can come out from under the bed."

Stiles crawls out and dusts himself off, trembling. "What _was_ that?"

"That's me. I'm a werewolf."

"I'm shaking kind of badly, Derek." Stiles lifts his arms and his fingers are quaking. "You never did buy me a drink in the club. I need one now. Please?"

"Yeah." Derek gets up and pours Stiles a shot of Elijah Craig, partly because whiskey is supposed to be calming, and partly because it's the best stuff he has.

The glass vibrates in Stiles's hands while he has only a few tiny sips. Then he licks his lips and puts the glass on the bedside table. "Your booze is way better than the stuff they serve at the club."

Derek nods. It's not worth drinking at home if the alcohol isn't any good. He doesn't know how to offer this out loud to the conversation. He's speechless again. Stiles doesn't seem to mind, or he's used to being the only one speaking. Derek thinks he's adorable, shivering a little in leftover fear, naked on the edge of Derek's bed... not that he wanted to scare him! It's just an adorable aftermath. And the kid is brave.

"Whiskey has a calming influence for sure," Stiles says, as if he _can't not_ say _something_.

Finally Derek manages to ask, "You didn't finish it. Would you rather have wine? I have some okay wines."

Stiles flaps one hand. "Nah. I'm fine now."

Derek gives him a flat look. "You're fine."

"Why not? You gave me booze, and your face is way less like Lon Chaney now."

Derek frowns. "That's a thing that happens with me. If you don't like my face that way, you probably don't like me very well." He huffs and looks away; he can feel how he's tightening up and closing in on himself. He feels defensive enough almost to get angry. Stiles is leaving either way. He doesn't need to make Derek feel embarrassed about something that can't be helped. "And it's not Lon Chaney. It's Lon Chaney, _Junior_."

"But I was startled. You could have told me ahead of time, dude."

Derek sighs ashamedly, looks at the floor again. "Sorry."

Stiles's phone rings, and he crawls back under the bed to retrieve it. "It's Scott," he tells Derek. "'Sup, buddy?"

" _You_ know. I tried your dad again and couldn't get him. I also texted him a couple times, but I haven't heard back. I'm calling to see if you're still alive after your date transformed into a monster, or whatever."

"Not exactly a monster... You wouldn't believe me if I said that he said that he's a werewolf, right?"

"So, now you're on the phone with me, and you sound like yourself... your dad called you, right?"

"Yup."

"And..."

"Nothing. I told him he doesn't have to do anything."

"Well... You still with your date?"

"Yeah. He just gave me a shot of bourbon. We're discussing facial features."

"Nice. Uh. Well, okay, but I..."

"Look, Scotty, since you're so nervous about me, just call me back later, okay?"

"Sure. Talk to you soon."

"Yep, thanks for checking on me."

Derek has been standing with his arms folded this whole time, watching Stiles. He takes a step closer to the bed. Stiles eyes him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Derek assures him.

"You going to do that again if I get you all hot and bothered again?"

"No. I'm on top of it now."

"Good! Excellent." Stiles bounces in place. "Get on top of _me_."

The corniness should be a mood killer. It is having a baffling opposite effect on Derek. "You... want to keep going?"

"Heck yes." Stiles turns around and clambers back into the middle of the bed. "I'm not giving up my birthday fuck just because you have huge teeth." Suddenly he laughs, having realized something apparently totally hilarious, and Derek knows what it is. He's already thought of it. He suffers through Stiles alerting him: "Hey, you _do_! Like, what big teeth you have! Oh my God, why didn't I think of that before? Get up here, wolf, Riding Hood needs some lessons in how a real beast does it. Hey--" Stiles gathers up a wad of sheet, semi-smoothes it and wraps it over his head, face peeking out. He fastens it under his chin by holding it tightly in one hand, in the manner of a girl's kerchief. "This doing anything for you?" He bats his eyelashes."And you _are_ in disguise as a human! This is great! Except... it's a good thing you're not in disguise as my grandmother, like in the story. Which I'm up for anything you want to do, hot-wolf-man, but seriously that might be a little bit weird? I'm not into that."

Derek drops his arms at his sides and curls up his fingers as his claw tips poke out again. So much for being on top of it. "Are you sure you're all right? You're not still frightened?"

Stiles blinks as if he doesn't know what Derek is talking about. He sits up straight and lets the sheet slide off of his head and shoulders. Then he jolts a little. "Oh! Well, sorry about the whole scrambling like a chipmunk under the bed thing, but yes, let's resume festivities, okay? I am A-Okay." He makes the circled finger and thumb gesture to illustrate. "Give me a little encouraging shoulder rub and a bit of a finger fuck and we're right as rain. Begin."

"That's good. I was worried. I wouldn't want to take advantage of you, and..." Derek realizes what he was about to say, and clams up. At least the conversation is giving him time to get his claws to recede.

"Dude. Derek." Stiles's eyes widen. "Did you do that on purpose to scare me?"

"No, no." Derek shakes his head. "I just couldn't--keep up with you and my arousal and my everything and I just--something had to give. I'm so sorry for scaring you."

"But it turned you on," Stiles says wisely, waggling his eyebrows.

_Oh God._ "Yes. A little bit, yes."

Stiles rolls over onto his belly and stretches out and presents his ass again. "That's okay. As long as you didn't scare me on purpose, I know you'll take care of me."

A second ago Stiles was hiding from him under the bed. Derek wonders if it's okay to find this entire sequence of events smoking hot. He's not used to being feared. When he was a kid, in games of tag with Laura, for instance, if she was "it" and Derek was the one on the run, when big sis got within a few yards of him he'd crouch down whimpering until she tagged him. He was always only hoping not to get tackle-tagged. When he was 'it', Laura didn't even pretend to be afraid of him. This... this being feared and then trusted is a very weird high and he hopes he doesn't have to do any moral soul-searching about it.

Derek sits down on the bed, and Stiles makes an impatient little sound. Derek leans over and begins massaging Stiles's shoulders. Then Stiles gives a wonderful sigh. He splays his fingers and rolls his shoulders, wiggles over onto his back again and gives Derek a contented half-lidded stare. Derek rubs his arms, and Stiles almost purrs.

"Since you already know I'm a wolf... I can ask you... I always wear a condom because, well, humans. But I don't--it's not the same for werewolves. It's totally safe for you, if you want me to go without."

"What, like for real? Risk-free?"

Derek nods.

"It's my birthday _and_ Christmas! But wait, how do I know you're right about this?" Stiles narrows one eye at Derek, proving to Derek that, yes, in fact, Stiles is capable of rational thought, to wit: they have just met, and Derek could be lying.

"Well... There aren't many options you'd think were trustworthy. Laura is also a werewolf. That's not a big secret since you know about me. She'd be able to tell you. And she's not invested in what you do in bed. I suppose... I guess you could call and ask her."

"That would be _so embarrassing_ for you."

"True." Derek sighs.

"Okay, we'll use the condom this time. Then next time we go out, we'll talk about it again. And then sometime when we go out again after that, you can casually bring it up in conversation with your sister when we all do supper together or something. Um. Is it possible you'd want to go out with me again?"

"Yes."

Stiles sighs. "That's a relief."

Derek is enchanted with him. He can't hope to convey this in words, but he does stroke slowly down Stiles's arm, and kiss him on the knee. Derek doesn't kiss strangers on the knee. He hopes this is a tender enough gesture to demonstrate how he feels.

Derek gets out another wrapped condom and sets it next to himself on the bed. Stiles flips back over onto his belly. But, it's not so simple as just flipping over. First Stiles looks in the direction in which he wants to go, then spreads both arms wide. Then he grips bedding in one hand, and tries to use it for purchase as he turns over, flinging the opposing arm over his chest, which takes a couple of tries. Then he's on his belly, face in the pillows again, and he shuffles around until he's settled. "You can put your fingers in me now."

Derek runs his hand lightly over Stiles's ass, then finger-fucks him gently.

"Your fingers feel so good. So nice." His happy humming and moaning relax Derek. After a short while of this, Stiles moves around and pulls at the pillows so his voice is no longer muffled. He begins, in a by-the-way tone: "Oh, and red is basically my favorite color. I used to wear a red hoodie and run around in the woods with my friends. It had nothing to do with Little Red Riding Hood, but I thought you might find it relevant. I totally wouldn't mind roleplaying Red Riding Hood, and it's okay for men to wear long red cloaks, too, you know, not just girls, it could be a gender-switched version, I wouldn't mind at all. Except for one thing. One thing I will not do, and that is pretend not to notice that _a wolf_ is in my grandmother's bed, wearing her bonnet. Not that my grandmother ever had a bonnet, to my knowledge. But other than that I wouldn't mind walking or running through the woods, or pretending to be innocent. I could lay a picnic out in the woods. I wouldn't get bored if you snuck up on me while I was eating snacks. You could take all the time you wanted, and be stealthy about it. Are you very stealthy?"

Derek warns him, growling, "You asked me to fuck you." He's slowly easing his fingers in and out of Stiles's hole.

Stiles reaches back and pats at his hand in approval. "Yes, and I still want it, big bad wolf, please, please be a good wolf and get inside me. I guess if we were in the woods, I shouldn't take the cloak off. If I had a cloak. Probably I should get naked underneath but just lift up the cloak, right?"

"Stiles--" the name comes out cut off short with a desperate huff of breath "--if you keep up this... talk, I'm--you won't be getting fucked any time soon. I am going to cream your thighs."

"I do want you to fuck me, please please yes, I do, but--" he makes a long, pleased humming sound as if something tastes really good "--being came all over on is good, too. You came on my back at the club and it was hot as sin. Don't you think so?" He gives a little, reminiscent grunt. "That was _hot_. It was like you couldn't help yourself around me."

Derek has not managed to impress upon Stiles the need for relative silence. He sits back a little and strokes himself twice to take the edge off. He wonders if he could come, and then get hard again fast enough to put the condom on and satisfy the needy Stiles. He's so damn close, and he wants this to be good for the boy. 

Stiles cranes to look over his shoulder, continuing to speak. "You're not seriously saying you could come untouched just from me talking, are you? Like if I started talking about a girl, or boy, in the woods, all by herself, or himself, as the case may be, going to Grandma's, you know, with snacks, and you came along and his little ass never got to Grandma's--"

Derek makes a desperate sound.

"Do you need help with the condom?"

Derek blushes and nods frantically. Stiles waits for Derek to slide his fingers carefully out, then pushes himself up onto his knees and unwraps the condom. "Wow," he says, his fingers wrapped around Derek's cock, "you are very hot right now. I mean literally the tip of your cock is seriously hot, like temperature hot, not only sexy-hot."

"I know," says Derek eloquently.

"There you go, big guy, and I'm ready for you." Stiles gets on elbows and knees. Derek plants a hand on one of his buttcheeks and urges him down onto his belly, then paws at his ass. Luckily his claws are still receded.

"Oh, you want me down, huh? That's okay... You know, probably Little Red Riding Hood in my example doesn't even know werewolves exist. Taking an element of my story from my own recent experience, say I'm totally unaware there is such a thing as werewolves, and all warnings as to what might happen to me in the woods are mysterious and unhelpful. I have no idea what I'm going to meet, and say--oh, yeah, this is way more hot, like, if the wolf doesn't even know, if you don't even expect Riding Hood at all. And she--or he--or it can just be me, whatever, and you're going down the trails and all of a sudden the wolf and Riding Hood are equally surprised by each other--I'm ready to be fucked any time. I feel good and relaxed, you can come in... Basket of snacks. Goodies. That's a Red Riding Hood thing. If I took some warm, homemade blueberry muffins, and wrapped them in a red-and-white checked cloth, and put them in a basket and brought them to your door without warning, would you come in your pants?"

"Probably."

"If you did, would that be because of Riding Hood or because of the muffins? Should my hypothetical involve a less delicious snack? And you _do_ have big beautiful eyes," Stiles says earnestly, as if he just noticed them. "And you _stare_ with them and it's wild."

Derek is back to clumsily sliding his fingers in and out of Stiles, though Stiles said he was ready. Once he had his hand on Stiles's ass and petted it a few times, he couldn't resist getting inside him, and putting his fingers in was the convenient way to get what he wanted right away. It's a clumsy maneuver because he can't seem to figure out whether he ought to be thrusting with his fingers, already inside of Stiles, or with his cock. His rhythm with his fingers stutters and they slide out. Then the only concern is whether he can get inside and give them both what they want, without coming beforehand. He strokes himself once more and then regrets it, he's so dangerously close. 

He feels his teeth sharpen again, and is worried about frightening Stiles. He doesn't know what to do; he can't concentrate on controlling and blunting his teeth and hold off on his orgasm at the same time. His arousal is at the point where he can barely make a choice anyway. Saying Stiles's name might make Stiles look directly at him, notice his teeth, and freak out again. Derek doesn't mean to, but he says, "Help."

Stiles does look at him, but he doesn't appear startled. "You said you weren't going to do that again, Derek."

For some reason this makes it very easy for Derek to blunt his teeth again.

"Good boy," says Stiles.

Derek gets down over him, humping, snarling, supporting himself with one hand, trying to decide between holding Stiles open and aiming himself. Stiles reaches one hand back to help him aim.

He was going to pause partway in, to make sure Stiles was okay, but for one thing, Stiles's constant speech is cut off instantly the second Derek's tip presses in. Stiles's lower lip falls open and pouts forward slightly, and his eyes close in a blissed-out expression. For another thing, Derek is going to come right here if he waits. He thrusts all the way in and then comes instantly, growling and humping over the rolls of orgasm.

Stiles is taking slow, huffing breaths, eyelids fluttering. He's quiet for a long time.

"There, I fucked you," Derek finally grinds out. "Happy birthday."

Stiles smiles into a pillow. "Again, please."

Derek huffs. "Turn over."

Again with the happy humming, and Stiles rolls over luxuriously, stretching, and Derek gets a good look at his sort-of-skinny, beautiful torso and long naked arms and blissed-out expression. "Can you stay the whole night?" he hears himself asking.

"Mm-hmm. But I need to call some people to tell them where I'm going to be."

Stiles makes a couple of lazily longish phone calls, mentioning Derek by name in them as if he's been familiar with him for months instead of hours. Stiles speaks to his friends as if Derek is part of their pack, er, crowd. Derek doesn't know what to make of him. He lies propped on an elbow next to Stiles and watches him, listening to the people on the other end of the line.

"I called Lydia to tell her I won't be at her party that she's got going on all night at her house."

Derek got all that. He's not clear how this evolved into calling someone named Danny, and then someone named Boyd, even though he's been listening this whole time. "You have a lot of friends," he observes. He's afraid it came out sounding pathetic.

Stiles looks at his phone as if surprised at the concept. "I guess..." He changes the subject back instantly. "It's not like a party for my birthday or anything. She's just coincidentally having a party on the same night, so it's not like I'm blowing her off. She already took me out for a coffee brunch this morning for my birthday. Otherwise, I'd go to the party and take you with me." Stiles is texting while he talks.

"Maybe I want you to myself," Derek hints, in case Stiles changes his mind and tries to drag him to a party. Of course, he'd go. But if his one or two past experiences with other dates at parties are indicative, he'd stand stiffly near Stiles the whole time, frowning.

"That's what you're getting, buddy."

"Who are you texting?"

"Oh, oops, sorry. I went into contacting-people mode. Got out of hot-date mode for a second. But I'm back now." Stiles tosses the phone aside and faces Derek, their noses almost touching. He slow-blinks and half-smiles at Derek, and moves their chests closer together. Derek is once again watering at the mouth and stunned. He was going to go down on Stiles, before he interrupted himself by asking him to stay the night. Somewhere in his brain this is still the plan, but they're almost--within a couple of inches of--cuddling. Derek reaches out and touches the hair over Stiles's ear. Stiles smiles a softer smile.

"Do you want a blow job?" Derek asks him. "I mean, I--that's a clumsy way to say it." At the moment, he's not really up for creating kinky descriptions of what he wants to do to Stiles's dick with his mouth.

"Sure. Blow job, go down on me, I love it, yes please!" Stiles bites his lip in anticipation. Derek scoots down the bed on his elbows. Suddenly Stiles's eyes widen, his mouth drops open, and he asks, "Oh, man, can you wolf out for real? Like an _animal_ wolf? All fours, fur, the works? Dude?"

Derek nods and dips his head toward Stiles's cock, anything to avoid direct eye contact, though he does keep a dim, half-lidded stare on Stiles's face.

"That will really add something to our chase and catch scenes in the forest!"

Derek groans. He almost loses the support of his elbows on either side of Stiles's hips.  
Stiles licks his lips and lifts one hip, again come-hither. But he _keeps talking_. His eyes turn downright naughty. "I could pretend to be afraid of you."

This conversation is over. Derek's brain has to reboot. He goes down on Stiles without another thought. In a moment he's completely immersed, paying attention to nothing but the scent of Stiles's sweat, his soft skin and how good this is. He's almost sleepy with the contentment of having Stiles's cock in his mouth, until Stiles is pawing at his hair. "Derek, _Derek_ , let me--I'm gonna--you should--"

Derek slides him out of his mouth and gives him a couple of tight, rough strokes at the base of his cock. He watches Stiles's face as he comes, almost surprised that Stiles doesn't shout out loud. His orgasm is all quiet sighs and a lot of shuddering. He groans just once, when it's over and he's stopped shaking.

Derek grabs a handful of tissues and does a quick clean-up for him, sneaking a lick of come from a drop that's trickling down the outside of Stiles's hip. Stiles pats Derek's hair and inquires, "Good?" He looks amused. 

Derek nods. Then he offers, "You tasted good at the club, but this is even better. I can appreciate you more without all those awful smells and all that noise."

"I didn't know you tasted at the club." 

Derek nods again, without looking at Stiles.

Stiles laughs. "You're so sneaky." 

"Sorry." 

"It's okay, dude." Stiles is still grinning.

While Stiles recovers, Derek gives him some slightly rough stroking and rubbing on his hip and up and down his thigh. Eventually Stiles groans, sticks both arms out straight in front of him and sits up. Derek slides backwards off of the end of the bed and stands up, regarding Stiles. He looks a little groggy as he sits on the edge of the bed, then he also stands up, runs his fingers through his hair, and shakes out. Stiles heads for the bathroom, but Derek stops him for a short and sweet kiss, holding him by the hips. 

Afterward, Stiles licks his lips and informs Derek, "We'll stop for awhile and do something else until we can do more sex. You're going to fuck me in the ass a second time, okay? I really want it. I'm the birthday boy, you have to do what I say."

Derek has no answer for that.

"Okay? You cool with it, or--heeeyy..." Stiles looks at him sharply as Derek slides his gaze away, hands still on Stiles's hips. "You don't mind me, like, telling you what to do, do you?" 

"No," says Derek gruffly. "I don't mind."

Stiles takes Derek's chin and gets eye contact. "Like, you don't think I'm being too bossy?"

"No."

"You really don't mind it?"

Derek furrows his brow. "I really don't mind it."

"Do you _like_ it?"

How is it Stiles is the one who never stops speaking, but Derek is the transparent one? All he can do is blush and nod.

Stiles lights up. "We can have fun with that! If you want. You want me to meet you in the woods, and you chase me, only instead of you violating me--I mean at first, because I want to be violated at some point--instead of you going all wild beast on me, do you want to catch me, and then do you want... er... okay, I'm having some trouble figuring out how to turn that around into me giving you orders. I'm trying to stick with the werewolf theme until the novelty of dating an honest to God werewolf wears off. Which might be never. Would it work if you catch me, and then I _command_ you to do me? Like, it turns out Red Riding Hood is into it?"

"Stiles." Derek places a finger on Stiles's lips. "Give me a chance to think."

Stiles looks away, then looks back at Derek again and nods in well-worn resignation. "Okay, but you have to give me something to put in my mouth. Ergh. I mean, I do better at being quiet with something to suck on wow this just keeps getting worse please help me stop talking."

Derek kisses him, then suggests, "Bottle of water?"

"That's perfect," Stiles slurs, eyes half-lidded from the kiss. "We'll get cleaned up, first." So they do.

Stiles suggests music or movies, for the recovery time until his next birthday-boy fucking. Derek has many things to choose from: the show _Grimm_ , the movies _The Great Muppet Caper_ , _Star Wars_ , and more. Stiles already loves Muppets and _Star Wars_. He's barely seen an episode of _Grimm_. He explains that he doesn't remember whether that's because he was bored and quit watching, or whether he happened to be looking at a TV in passing when _Grimm_ was on. 

Derek doesn't have a TV. They begin with the pilot of _Grimm_ on a laptop placed on the coffee table. It's Derek's new laptop. Rather, it's Laura's old one and she gave it to him when she got a new one, saying that now he had no excuse not to have one. She set him up on iTunes with all of the Muppet movies and a bunch of episodes of _Grimm_ and some music, though he doesn't need the music. He has some good CDs, and the laptop has a CD player.

Derek tosses a blanket over the leather couch and he and Stiles sit on that, naked. Stiles nudges Derek's knees apart and sits nestled back against his chest, one arm slung over Derek's arm, his other hand holding his water bottle. He nibbles at the opening of the bottle even when he's not drinking from it. "So, is it like, all fairy tale themed?"

"Loosely. Pretty much."

"You into fairy tales in general?"

Derek can feel himself getting closed off. "I guess." He fights past that closed-off feeling and spills some embarrassing details, too easily. "I was going to marry Little Red Riding Hood. I mean... when I was a little kid, that... that's how I ended my own version of the story."

Stiles mouths his water bottle, eyes on the show on the laptop. "I was going to marry Princess Leia."

Derek breathes a long, quiet sigh. "Good choice."

After a while, Stiles starts squirming, and picking at the blanket, and giving Derek's arms and legs restless pats. "So I've kind of... achieved familiarity with _Grimm_ now? You think?"

Derek has his hands on Stiles's ribs and his chin on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, mouth almost on Stiles's cheek. "Do you want to stop watching?"

"I know you must obviously like it, or you wouldn't have suggested it. And I'm glad you showed it to me, because it's interesting, I guess. And I like knowing for future reference that you think Nick Burkhardt is badass, because I'm enjoying learning specific things about you, such as things that you like, or opinions that you have. For the record, he doesn't seem that badass to me, though."

"Well, later on in the series he gets a much darker five o'clock shadow. It helps."

"That's cool. I don't really mind it or anything. But I'd rather watch Muppets, overall. Since you mentioned _Great Muppet Caper_..."

"Yeah. Laura set me up with all of the Muppet movies on iTunes, and I haven't played through them all yet."

"Awesome. Hit me with some Muppets."

Derek hauls himself forward, Stiles still tucked in front of him, and reaches for the touchpad. When they're settled again and the opening music plays, Stiles turns his head and gives Derek a delighted grin, eyes shining as if the beginning to a Muppet movie is a rare and magical thing. Derek's knees go weak, but that doesn't matter, as he's sitting down. He clenches Stiles a little more tightly, nuzzles his temple and tries to relax, but that's difficult to do when he's falling in love like this.

Stiles is repeatedly crunching his empty water bottle in one hand when his phone vibrates on the coffee table; he reaches for it. At the same time as he picks up the call, he raises his foot to the table, curls his toes and lowers the volume on the movie, using his big toe on the laptop touchpad. Derek is staring at Stiles's foot while Stiles says, "Hi, Dad." Then Derek tenses up because he forgot the sheriff was going to check in.

"Everything all right, son?"

"Everything's great, Dad."

"Still at Derek's?"

"Yep. Staying all night."

"But we're on for mini-golfing with Scott and Kira tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"What time?"

"One. Oh, and can Derek and Laura--that's his sister, you know--come, too?"

"I don't see why not. Goodnight. Happy birthday. Love you."

"Love you, too, Dad. 'Night." Stiles ends his call and wiggles a finger at Derek's phone. "Call your sister and see if she can come with us."

Derek obediently calls Laura. When he invites her, Laura says, "Aww, you're going miniature golfing with your boyfriend. That's so cute!"

"Laura, he's not my boyfriend." _Yet. He will be. As soon as I can make it happen._ "So are you coming along?"

"Yes, of course! And bringing a camera. I'll catch you smiling. Can _my_ boyfriend come, too?"

"I thought your boyfriend wasn't available this weekend."

"No, he is. I'm meeting him in a minute. We're doing coffee and then late supper, then some quiet bar I think he found last week, and then coffee again."

"But I had to take you to the Jungle."

"He hates the Jungle. It was sweet of you to take me in his place, for my birthday."

Derek asks Stiles, "Can Laura bring her boyfriend? He's fairly likeable."

"Yeah, have her bring him. Whatever she wants. I want her there. She needs to get to know me, so I can talk with her about werewolf sex."

"Did he just say he wants to talk with me about werewolf sex? What is it--the condoms or the knot?"

Derek glances fearfully at Stiles and yep, the human heard.

Stiles, wide-eyed, mouths to Derek, "The _knot?_ "

Derek can feel from the heat on his face and neck that he's red from the top half of his shoulders to up past his hairline. "Laura, Stiles is right here. He's at my elbow. Just because he's human doesn't mean he can't hear you."

"Hi, Stiles," says Laura, brightly.

"Hey, Laura."

"I've taken a knot up the ass," says Laura, "so I can give him a few pointers."

Derek is having a hard time finding words, and frowning into the phone is not getting his point across.

"Of course," Laura goes on musingly, "the guy was a werecoyote, so you two might have a bit more of a size challenge if you--"

" _Laura_." Derek sees how Stiles is looking away from him, biting his lip, his face mottled with paleness and blushing, apparently trying to control his breathing. Derek is pretty sure his big sister has terrified his date beyond recall, but then--that's not how Stiles _smells_.

Derek stutters over trying to end the call on something mundane. "One o'clock," he remembers. "Mini golf is at one o'clock."

Stiles speaks suddenly. "Hey, let me talk to her." He air-grabs at Derek's phone.

Derek sighs and hands it over.

Stiles's voice does that hoarse, squeaky thing at first. "Hey, Laura." He clears his throat. "Um, it was actually the disease thing I was going to ask about to begin with. I didn't--er, I had no idea there's so much, er, variety to werewolf sex."

"Barebacking is cool," says Laura. "I assume Derek told you it's safe. It is."

"Oh, cool, thanks. 'Night, then, Laura." Stiles hands the phone back to Derek, saying, "I believe her. She probably wouldn't lie to me, she has nothing to gain."

When Laura and Derek are done talking, she makes kissing sounds. "Mwah, mwah, kisses," she says.

"I'm not making kissing sounds into the phone at you," Derek replies. Surely, this will convince Stiles that he does not usually exchange kissing sounds with his sister on the phone.

"Aw, Stiles won't mind."

"Goodnight. Happy birthday."

"'Night, Derek."

When he ends the call, Derek holds his phone up and explains all the weirdness: "Sister." He braces himself for the knot talk, but Stiles doesn't bring it up.

Unexpectedly, Stiles says, "I wish I had a sister." He leans on Derek's upper arm.

Derek thinks, _You could marry me. Then Laura will be your sister_. He prays that he doesn't say that out loud, even think it too loudly at the perceptive Stiles, but he's safe. Stiles is quiet and cuddly. Derek pats his cuddling arm.

"Look," Derek says, "I don't... I want to reassure you of something. Um. My complete wolf form _does_ have a knot. But you don't have to do that, ever. It probably won't even come up. Er. So to speak."

Stiles sits up and looks at him. His fingertips tighten their grip on Derek's arm. He bites his lip and stammers, "So... we could, um, we could do that soon."

"What?"

"Sorry, I mean if you want to?"

" _Want_ to?"

"Well, whatever. We could. You don't like to?"

"Like to..." Derek lets out his breath and then swallows hard, staring at Stiles.

"Don't like to knot people."

"I've never done it," Derek confesses. Great. That probably inspires a lot of confidence. But--Stiles _wants to_? On the other hand, is it that much weirder than letting Derek have sex with him, the very same night that Derek shapeshifted without warning? Derek has to err on the side of caution; maybe Stiles is just panicking and thinking he has to do whatever Derek--

Stiles abruptly kisses him. There's a lot of licking, tugging and sucking and then Stiles sits back, lips reddened. He asks, his voice a little rough, "So if we do it, we'll be each other's first times with a knot?"

Derek makes sounds, but can't form words.

Stiles goes on, but in a slightly shy tone. "Next weekend. Because if either of us chickened out, or if I got scared just from seeing you turn all the way into a wolf, I wouldn't get fucked again tonight. And I still want that, so... are you free next weekend?"

"Mm-hmm." That's the best Derek can do in terms of articulation.

"'Kay... good... me, too." Stiles still sounds shy. But he comes back in for another kiss, and Derek gives it to him, fiercely.

Then Stiles turns the volume back up on the Muppets.

"I'm hungry," complains Stiles, shortly thereafter.

Derek has a secret weapon. He didn't realize until Stiles mentioned being hungry that it was a secret weapon, but it clearly is. He gets up and removes a foil-wrapped pan of brownies from a kitchen cupboard. He then finds a small plate and places two brownies on it (the whole pan has been cut ahead of time, because Laura has seen how Derek eats brownies otherwise).

Derek looks at the plate for a moment, remembering Stiles's approach to dinner at the Italian restaurant. He removes four more brownies from the pan, adds them to the plate, and brings them to Stiles. "Laura brought me brownies and a key lime pie. Here are some brownies. I'm sorry I don't have any milk," he lies. He does have some milk, a little, enough for breakfast cereal tomorrow morning before Stiles leaves. Stiles will want breakfast cereal. He can make do with water tonight.

Stiles jumps up and beelines for the fridge, as if Derek is incapable of looking inside his own fridge. "Derek!" He shouts in triumphant discovery,"You do have milk!" Stiles rummages for a glass, finds a big one, fills it, and brings it back to the coffee table. "You don't mind, do you?"

Derek folds his arms and slouches back into the couch. "I sort of mind... in the morning, you'll want cereal, won't you?"

"I'll eat key lime pie for breakfast. Anyway, we can go to one of those diners that serves breakfast all day, and have eggs before mini-golf tomorrow."

Derek's stomach tightens at the same time as his heart lightens. He can't tell whether he's panicking, or trying to be pleased and ending up confused. Stiles planning their day tomorrow is too perfect. Derek wants to keep him here. He needs to keep him. _Let it go, Hale_ , he reminds himself. _It's a moment, let it go_.

Stiles somehow manages to flop backwards into a sitting position, sinking down in the couch cushion, with milk in hand without spilling anything. But as he leans to place his glass on the coffee table, he has a suspenseful moment. The glass tips and the milk sloshes upward, but lands again in the glass. "Okay, _that_ would have pissed you off," Stiles says with a deep breath. "To waste almost-your-last milk." He grabs a brownie and takes a big bite, which makes Derek hungry, so he has half of one of the brownies.

"Oh, man, brownies," Stiles says around his half-chewed mouthful. "You're going to spoil me. All boyfriends everywhere should provide brownies."

Derek recalls seeing Stiles on the dance floor earlier in the evening and wanting to ruin him forever for everyone else. _Whatever works. Wait_. He asks softly, "Boyfriend?"

"Oh, gosh," Stiles smacks the side of his head with the heel of his palm. He has a second brownie in his other hand. "Sorry, Derek. Brownies. Make me say things I don't mean. I heard you tell your sister I'm not your boyfriend, and I mean, obviously I'm not. This is our first date, and the only reason it is a date and not a 'hook-up'--" he does the finger quotes with his non-brownie hand "--is because you bought me dinner."

Derek is deeply glad that he bought the dinner.

"Thank you, by the way." Stiles looks Derek in the eye to thank him.

"You're welcome," Derek answers gruffly. _Take the opportunity_ , he thinks, and at the same time argues with himself, _But I never take opportunities_. He goes on: "I don't mind if you say 'boyfriend'." He can feel the hot blush rise again on his cheeks and ears.

"Okay, cool. Awesome actually, because then I don't have to try to filter that word! I've got enough else to worry about, so thanks, Derek."

Derek nods, stomach in knots from his own boldness. Luckily, Stiles is occupied for awhile with his brownies and milk, and Derek has time to calm down.

When the brownies and milk are gone, kissing resumes. Derek finally moves his hips so his erection presses into the crease of Stiles's pelvis. Stiles says, "This is when telekinesis would come in handy. We need the lube. And we're so _comfortable_."

"I'll go," says Derek.

"Thank you!" Stiles flops over to expand his sprawling into the place Derek leaves on the couch. He also asks Derek to bring a towel, "In case we have more sex than the blanket can handle."

Derek huffs, almost an amused snort, but of course he brings a towel.

Derek puts the lube within easy reach and gently manipulates Stiles out of his space--sort of. Every time he touches Stiles to move him, Stiles stays on top of Derek, so they end up entangled, Stiles's belly over Derek's knee. Derek lowers that knee and settles Stiles on top of him, lengthwise on the couch. Stiles then hitches his knees up and straddles Derek.

Derek is fully hard. Stiles begins stroking him, then absently slows his strokes, staring down at him. Derek moistens a finger and lightly presses the outside of Stiles's hole. 

Stiles sighs at that and says, "I want you to fuck me, but... you need a good sucking-on, don't you think?" He begins without further discussion.

Derek is startled by how good it is. He cries out and throws one arm back over the end of the couch, digging into the leather so he won't grab Stiles too tightly. His other hand is a wild card for a moment before he feels as if he can gently stroke Stiles's hair.

For a short while Derek is panting uncontrollably. Then, too soon, he pleads with Stiles to stop if he still wants him to fuck him.

Stiles pulls off. He seems disappointed and uncertain, then says abruptly, "Yes, oh God yes, I want you in my ass bad, I'm just so into sucking your cock. Okay, just, um--" he reaches back and looks thoughtful for a second.

"Make up your mind," Derek growls, "this won't last long."

"I'm ready, and I want you in my ass," says Stiles.

Derek is angling his hips up towards Stiles. Stiles slides his butt into place. Derek closes his eyes and thrusts aggressively right away.

Stiles starts talking again. At first he was moaning and mouthing Derek's jaw, but then he pushes his ass further still onto Derek's cock, props himself up by a forearm on Derek's chest, and starts talking about hunting.

"I'm sorry to bring up your sister during sex but she's the only other werewolf I have to refer to, as like an example other wolf. Because do you hunt in packs?"

"We do hunt in packs... When we hunt, we hunt in packs."

"So when you chase me in the woods you need another wolf, don't you? To sort of surround or flank me. That's why I was thinking of Laura. And that's why I was talking about your sister during sex." Stiles pauses as he gives a breathy grunt when Derek thrusts at an effective angle. Derek pries his own eyes open and looks at Stiles's parted lips and fluttering eyelids. There's silence except for Derek's panting. Then Stiles resumes, "And of course you'd need to defend me from her, because I'd be your prey, right? Do you guys ever fight?"

"Not really."

"That's good..." Stiles strokes Derek's cheek. "God, you look so wild right now."

"I feel wild. I feel--close." Derek realizes that the hand that he had clamped onto the couch is now penetrating the leather with claw points. "Stiles--I'm going to--I am shifting again right now--" he growls and forces out: "Sorry."

"Do you want to stop?"

" _No_ I don't want to stop. I am losing control."

"In a bad way?"

"It is really hard to talk right now. Trying to hold off."

"I'd rather hear your words than worry about the wolf thing. Can you talk and do shapeshifting at the same time?"

"Only if I let go."

"I'm going to guess you would have already said something about this being dangerous, if it really was dangerous. It doesn't hurt you, does it? You should let me know if it does. Do whatever helps. You won't hurt me if you shift, will you? I mean hurt me badly. I'm okay with some minor wounds in bed."

Derek was going to explain that Stiles is safe no matter what happens, but as soon as Stiles says that, he's past the point where he has time to discuss anything. This is way more shifting than he did in the bedroom before. Much more classic movie wolf-man, if he has to guess, and he lets himself go because he feels safe abandoning control. Stiles is safe with him, but Derek is also safe with Stiles. Stiles isn't going to be too afraid and start calling for help again. In fact, he doesn't seem to be afraid at all. Only curious.

"Furry," observes Stiles, digging his fingertips into the ruff around Derek's throat. Then he gives a surprised gasp, and moans, "Derek, I think--I'm going to come just from you fucking me." At the same time, he goes for more friction, trying to arch his back and wriggle around and find a way to hump Derek's belly. The corresponding effect on Derek's dick means Derek won't leave Stiles's orgasm to chance, or there's no way Derek isn't coming first.

Derek slides his fingers over and his thumb under Stiles's erection, careful to keep his claws out straight so neither Stiles's belly nor his cock get nicked, just pressing lightly with his fingers. That's all it takes. Stiles bucks and comes, clawing at Derek's shoulder with one hand and the back of the couch with the other.

Derek, teeth bared, stares at Stiles as he comes, and in an instant sees an image in his mind: Stiles on the forest floor, Derek having rolled him onto his back... another wolf flashing its eyes and teeth a few yards away in the black undergrowth... and himself hunched over Stiles, paws or--hands--spread over Stiles's chest, roaring to keep the other wolf--from--

Yeah, he comes pretty hard, bucking uncontrollably for a long time, gasping and almost sobbing, with little growls thrown in.

Stiles's heartbeat is all over the place, as he lies recovering on Derek's chest. Derek runs both of his hands up and down either side of Stiles's spine, then strokes the boy's nape and straight down his back, while he tries to catch his breath. "God," says Derek, finally.

"Awesome," agrees Stiles.

They lie there, the rising and falling of Derek's chest moving Stiles. Derek pats him on the lower back. Eventually he fishes the towel out of the rumpled folds of blanket. He lifts Stiles just enough to place the towel over his own belly, where Stiles came. Stiles yawns, "Movie's over."

"If I roll halfway over, can you reach the laptop and start something else?"

"Guess so, yep. Or I could just restart _Great Muppet Caper_."

"That works."

Stiles hits the touchpad correctly after a few tries and the movie starts over. He makes comfortable noises while he rests on top of Derek. Finally he mutters, "I want my milk. I think there's like a swallow left."

So Derek scrambles backwards, letting Stiles sit between his legs and reach to the end of the table for his milk glass, which he holds in both hands. He gets a genuine milk moustache, which Derek may never have seen on a real person before, let alone someone who is only finishing a very small amount of milk. Stiles licks his lips and says, "So while you were fucking me I was saying you should chase me in a pack. Like, have another wolf flank me, right? So I have no hope of escape. And then after you catch me, defend me from them. Would Laura like that, think it was fun?"

"She'd think it was funny. Especially the idea that I could keep you for myself if she wanted to fight me for you. She would find it hilarious."

"But it would turn you on, right?"

Derek huffs a few times before he admits, "Yes."

"Cool. Just checking. You know, you can, like, _take_ me and stuff without all the werewolf details. I'm just kinda into this topic right now seeing as how you turned into a werewolf earlier. Or rather, you have always been a werewolf, but I just found out this evening."

"I'm not going to ask Laura to hunt you in the woods," Derek says defensively. "She's faster and better than me, and she'd _let_ me win. I'm not asking her."

"'Sokay. It's just she's the only other werewolf I have for reference right now."

"But, Stiles... would you feel safe with only me, in the woods, by yourself, with me wolfed out?"

"I guess so. I think so. You haven't scared me since _hours_ ago."

Derek has to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from asking Stiles to marry him on the spot. "Look," he says, and his voice is louder than he intended, "it's a very good bet that by the end of mini golfing tomorrow, I will have brought up to Laura that you might like to be play-chased by werewolves. I have no self-control whatsoever and I hope you're okay with that."

"Really? But... you're a werewolf, acting like a human all the time, right? I mean, how can that be no self-control? Anyway, I'm the king of no self-control. So we'll see how it goes, right?"

"Do you want to come home with me again tomorrow night?" Derek is embarrassed by the words as soon as he says them.

"Yes, please. I'd love that."

"But then after that we should probably make a date for next weekend, like you said earlier. Because we need a break, right? I'm already getting way too used to you being here." Derek has his head bowed into his hands and his elbows on his knees, hiding his face. He can't take the suspense of being on his best behavior while dating. But being honest makes him sound like a creepy, obsessive... well, it makes him sound like himself. But he's not that bad. He's trying, he's really trying.

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry," says Stiles. "Anytime you want me to leave something here that I'll have to come back for, just let me know."

Derek sits up straight and stares at him. "You would do that?"

"Sure. This might sound a little... like I move too fast or something, you know? I mean, I kind of do things really quickly and think about them later. But I don't think that's a bad thing. I personally believe, and, like, from my personal experience I learned that, if you like someone you should go ahead and spend the time with them."

"When I saw you at the club I thought you were really cute. Attractive. Sexy."

Stiles raises his arms full-length above his head, tips his head back and stretches with a quiet groan. "And then you brought me home and found out I'm also totally awesome!"

"Yes. Also I still really like your freckles."

Stiles snorts. "Good."

Then Stiles gets a text alert. He informs Derek that it's Scott, checking to make sure he's okay. "I'm reporting that all is awesome."

Stiles has barely sent the text when his phone vibrates. 

"I should have called in the first place," says Scott. "I have no way of knowing he didn't take your phone or something and fake a text."

"Oh, my God. Get off the phone. I am fine."

"You don't have to be that way. I was just checking. Sue me for being responsible."

"Thank you, buddy, but I am good. Derek Hale did not steal my phone and tell you that all is awesome with me. And if he _had_ , it would have been _true_. Thank you though, Scotty, okay? Goodnight, sleep tight."

"'Night. Have a good rest of your birthday."

"I will," answers Stiles, and waggles his eyebrows at Derek. "Okay," he goes on, to Derek, as he sets the phone down, "That's the last time he'll call me for at least a couple hours."

He slides over, squirming until he's atop Derek, cheek resting on his chest. 

You're not supposed to tell someone you love them on the first date. But _not_ saying the words is hard work. Derek thinks of an out, a way to say it without saying it, so he can stop trying so hard to keep it in. He lightly touches Stiles's nape, then ruffles his hair. "I adore brown hair."

"Thanks," Stiles murmurs, fingers curled in Derek's chest hair. "I love you, too." He looks up, looking and sounding sleepy. "Hey, Derek? How often do you do that complete wolf shape you said you can do? Like, on full moons, or every night?"

"I normally would sleep that way," says Derek, who did not think this through when he invited Stiles to stay all night. Then he realizes what Stiles just said to him and squeezes him a little more warmly.

"Oh... cool... I forgot to ask if you'd even be a full wolf next weekend. I mean, if you would be a wolf for our date. It's not difficult for you to turn, is it? Not like in some of the movies? It's like, comfortable for you? If you sleep that way."

"It's very easy. Doesn't hurt me at all. Sometimes I prefer it to human shape."

Stiles is still cuddled up to Derek and murmuring into his chest. "Good. Now that I've gotten everything I wanted for my birthday, you can do your thing. Let me see how you look. I want to pet you. I mean, if you allow that sort of thing."

Derek just does it. There's no point in delaying or worrying. Stiles doesn't back off, so every one of Derek's shifting body parts moves a part of Stiles, raises him up against a shoulder or elbow joint or hip, sinks him lower in the dip between hips and ribcage. Derek sighs when he's done, and Stiles splays his fingers and works them into his fur. "Hey... you're not scary at all. That thing you did with the glowy eyes and teeth in bed was way scarier. That is, it was kind of scary. And this isn't frightening in the slightest. I don't feel threatened." He hums and lowers his chin into the fur behind Derek's shoulder. "Can I see your eyes?"

Derek lifts his head and curves his neck to try to look at him, and noses him on the nose.  
"Pretty," says Stiles, and Derek's heart trips. He gives Stiles a quick lick on the lips. Suddenly he remembers the idea for next weekend, and feels like he could go again, right now. _Just let it go, relax,_ he repeats to himself. _Let him be_.

Stiles isn't helping him to let his arousal go. He's begun petting Derek all over. "Pretty boy, good boy. You don't mind me talking to you like this, do you? Because you're such a good, nice boy. And so big, but so good."

Derek finally gets so relaxed listening to this that he can let his arousal fade for now.

"I know I said next weekend, we could try knotting." Stiles rests his cheek on Derek's shoulder, gently holding his upper foreleg. "But part of the reason I thought we should wait was because in case I got startled. If I was afraid of you being a wolf all the way, then the sex wouldn't work out very well. But now you're transformed into a wolf, and I'm really relaxed. Not scared at all... So, it seems like this would be as good a night as any to try knotting for the first time. Yeah?"

Derek pushes himself up onto his elbows and shifts back to human shape.

Stiles watches him with concerned eyes. "No? Not up for it?"

"Hang on, I only wanted to say... In wolf shape, I won't be able to verbally ask how you're doing."

"Oh, I'll tell you how I'm doing."

Of course he will. Stiles will talk the whole time.

Stiles takes the blanket off the couch and folds it on the floor between couch and coffee table. Derek moves the coffee table a little further back. Then he shifts back to wolf, all four paws planted on the floor.

"You are a big wolf," Stiles observes again. "You're so big, I bet I can get on my elbows and knees on the blanket, and you could stand over me, and I won't even need to support your weight."

This arouses Derek to the point of distraction, the idea of standing over Stiles and fucking him, not even needing to lean on him. However, when they get situated, Derek finds he wants to lean on him--wants someplace to brace his forelegs. He tucks one forepaw against Stiles's left elbow, and the other in front of Stiles's right shoulder. Stiles wriggles his left elbow. "Your claws are digging into me, dude. There. Fixed." He slides his right elbow back slightly, takes the right-hand paw and curls his fingers around Derek's wrist, which both emotionally moves and sexually turns-on Derek.

Derek could just relax like this for awhile, nuzzling Stiles's nape and rubbing their temples together. He's enjoying the amazing fact that Stiles is underneath him while he's full wolf and the boy still wants to eat breakfast with him tomorrow. But Stiles, though he's clearly enjoying the cuddling, is beginning to arch his back and tilt his hips, alternately pushing back between Derek's thighs. He's verbally encouraging Derek to get started. Still, in a steady stream of words such as, "I'm okay, that's okay, that's good, that's _very_ okay, doing good, good wolf, extremely fucking good wolf..." Derek is afraid. He isn't even in yet. 

Derek has, as he told Stiles, never knotted anyone before. What if he's too big? If he gets in and starts swelling, and Stiles is uncomfortable, he won't know what to do. It's not like he can just pull out. Maybe they really should have waited and asked Laura for more details about it. Derek could hide somewhere while Stiles asked her. Stiles and Laura don't seem shy on that front.

Derek tugs gently out of Stiles's grip on his paw. He backs up and buys time while also pleasing both of them by licking thoroughly and deeply at Stiles's ass. Stiles groans, a long, wordless groan, which Derek counts as a triumph.

Stiles is ready--or rather, he's still ready, and getting really squirmy, swaying sideways and back, making small grunts. Derek tries to stick the tip of his tongue in Stiles's hole, and Stiles makes an _oof_ sound.

Derek licks his way up Stiles's spine. Stiles grabs his paw again, dips his head and gives Derek's upper foreleg a gentle nip. Derek whines. He makes some hesitant motions towards thrusting in.

"Good boy, I'm okay, super okay here. Derek, you can do it however you want. You don't have to go easy, I feel really good and open. Or, you know that if you can't do this tonight then we're still on for next weekend. You do know that, right? You're okay, you're good, do whatever works, dude. I could come just from you licking my ass if you want to do that again."

Being reminded that he's not under any obligation gives Derek a burst of confidence.

He needn't have worried.

He fits perfectly.

_The end._


End file.
